Castle of Blood

You look out the window at the swirling snow. It’s not the best time to be traveling through a remote mountain pass, but you are comfortable on the warm luxury bus.

Outside the wind howls and you can barely see. There is a enormous thud sound and you are nearly thrown from your seat.

“Cazzo! Cazzo! Cazzo!”

The bus is stopped and the engine sputters.

You catch the reflection of the passengers in the window. There are seventeen in all. Six are men, a well built black haired man in a soccer jersey, a tall thin brown haired man, a blond in an expensive suit, an older man with wild unkempt white hair, a young man with a backpack, and of the middle aged, black haired, clearly Italian driver.

Eleven are women. A red head with a back pack, an older woman wearing a blond wig, a dark skinned woman with jet black hair, a brunette of mixed ethnicity, a black haired girl in leather pants, a willowy blonde, a girl in a headscarf, a pair of blond twins who barely look twenty, a modesty dressed brunette wearing a cross, and a tall muscular, big breasted red head.

The driver gets out of the bus. He comes back in muttering, “Cazzo” under his breath.

In a modestly accented voice he says. “The axel on the bus is broken and something punctured the gas tank. The heat is no longer working and I can’t get anyone on the radio. We are in a remote area and it could take a week for help to come. The good news is there is an old castle only about a mile away.”

One of the woman chimes in. “Why can’t we just stay here.”

The bus driver coughs. “The sun will be down soon and it’s supposed to be well below zero. We freeze if we stay.”

You grudgingly get get up and exit the bus into the driving snow. The question is, who are you?